A Thousand Years
by YouPeopleAreSoPettyAndTiny
Summary: Merlin has been alone for 1000 years. He's despondent, tortured by his solitude. He's watched Camelot fall and magic fade from the sight of the world. He's almost given up, until one cold night in a pub his loneliness is ended. A fic to spoil my OTP, Mergana. Reincarnation/Modern/Return of Arthur.
1. Chapter 1 (The Intro)

**AN:**

Merlin has been alone for 1000 years. He's despondent, tortured by his solitude. He's watched Camelot fall and magic fade from the sight of the world. He's almost given up, until one cold night in a pub his loneliness is ended.

Just so we're clear, Merlin doesn't look like an old man in this story. He's found some way or another to stay twenty-something physically, and he's been going by Emrys. Also, the first chapter is kind of like an intro, telling how the whole thing begins, the second will detail the gap between the intro and the actual story, and the third chapter will be where everything kicks off and gets interesting.

Title inspired by Christina Perry's _A Thousand Years_. I wrote this before I thought about the song, and then I thought about the song, and then I laughed and named the story.

**DISCLAIMER: **Yep. It's official. I own nothing. Don't sue me.

**1000 years…**

1000 years was roughly how long he had been keeping me waiting. Sure, Arthur had never been particularly punctual in life, bit in death he was far surpassing ridiculousness.

So many times throughout the tiresome ages I had thought to myself, '_This is it. Camelot's need has never been greater than now. The King will rise once more and bring peace to Albion for good.'_ Somehow, it never was the right time. Not when Guinevere died, not when the truce across the land splintered, not even when Camelot itself finally fell, turning the whole world upside-down so that nothing was ever the same again.

So there I was, sitting alone in the corner of a quiet pub on a frigid night in 21st century London, watching magic dwindle out of existence altogether. If Arthur thought I spent all my time in the tavern before, he must have been spinning in his grave those days.

That was when the world righted itself for the first time in almost 10 centuries.

The bell above the door rang as it opened, granting entry to a group of four giggling young women, likely university students. A lot of those came to this pub. I didn't take much notice of them as I rose from my booth. They were simply more of the placeholders filling this world that tried to make sense of itself by invalidating mine.

Ben, the bartender, took my flask and turned to fill it while I stared blankly at the wall. That was the full extent of our relationship. Sadly enough, Ben was the closest thing I had to a friend those days.

As I mulled over that small, depressing fact I heard an all-too-familiar peal of laughter to my left that made my throat clench in horror, one that made me relax into a nostalgic smile when I processed the tone. It was one from happier, simpler times when the owner hadn't been consumed by power and hatred. A time when we had been friends, not mortal enemies. I brushed it off as more of the delusions that had been generating as I slowly slipped into a solitude-driven insanity.

Then Ben handed me my flask, which slipped through my fingers, clattered to the floor, and splashed drink over everything in a two-meter radius as I met the eyes of a ghost in the mirror behind the bar.

That ethereal green that I would never get out of my head no matter how much longer my earthly purgatory continued. My purgatory that no longer felt like a punishment.

The girl with long, black curls on the barstool next to me gasped and grabbed a bundle of towels off the counter, leaping forward to mop up the mess. I bent quickly to help her, stammering apologies for the alcohol on her green dress.

"Don't worry about it, I can be clumsy, too." She brushed off my every attempt to make amends. "I'm sure the stains will come right out," she assured me as she dabbed at the hem of her skirt.

"Here, let me help." I reached out with the towel, careful to keep my eyes low as I muttered a spell under my breath. When I removed my hand, her dress was as good as new.

When I finally met her eyes, she was gaping at me. "How did you do that?" she asked softly, but there was a hint of a demand in her tone, and more than a little pleading in her eyes. Those unearthly green orbs.

My mind was reeling. Did she know? Did she not know? Did she remember? Damn it, was she even real?

Centuries of hiding the truth answered for me. "My mother taught me a few tricks for sticky situations. Lifehacks, I guess you could call them," I lied through a smile. She didn't look convinced.

"I'm sorry, but do I know you?" she pushed, searching my face the way she always had when I was withholding.

I tried to resist, to tell her no with certainty. I tried in vain. "You do remind me of someone. Someone I knew a very long time ago."

She held out her hand, her friends at the bar and the mess at our knees long forgotten, and an older mess on the forefront of my mind. "I'm Morgan, Morgan Penn."

I took her hand grasping it like a lifeline to the old world. "I'm Emrys."


	2. Chapter 2 (The Lead-Up)

**1 Month**

A month was all it took for Morgan to discover my powers and confess to me her own. We had spent nearly every day together since we had "met", so it was a wonder it didn't happen sooner, really. She had walked in on me one afternoon cooking a chicken dinner in her flat, which wasn't all that unusual. What was unusual was that it was cooking over a flame suspended in midair in the living room while I watched Sherlock reruns on her computer.

She handled the whole thing quite well, although I particularly enjoyed her cry of _I knew it! _when she saw the thing with the chicken. She said that she had had vague inclinations about her old life in Camelot, but nothing too definite, and she had believed them to be dreams or some forgotten childhood imaginings to distract from the sorrows of the orphanage she spent her first few years in. When I elaborated the details of her campaign for the throne she did not rescind her age-old angers, but instead decided that the whole issue was moot, considering the world had gone to the dogs and abandoned magic altogether. I could tell it didn't sit well with her, but she could hardly take on the universe when she had failed to conquer Camelot. Surely she knew that.

On the point of her magic she was most relieved. She had never had anyone to help her harness her powers, much less understand what they even were. She had lived her life in fear, the kind of fear that had driven her into the arms of the Druids so many lifetimes before. Except it was worse because this world didn't even acknowledge magic as a reality, the legality of it aside entirely. She was overjoyed to finally understand, to have answers.

After this she still went by Morgan in public, of course, and I still used Emrys, but to me she was Morgana and to her I was Merlin. She used my Druid name when she was angry, however, and I had to admit that it stung. We were trying to heal the wounds we had inflicted on each other in the past, and I knew that while Merlin was her friend she felt nothing but contempt for Emrys.

I moved into her flat three months after the incident in the pub by her demanding after I finally confessed that I had been sleeping in a cave in the Valley of the Fallen Kings for the past 800 years. Morgana insisted that I get a job, since we both knew Arthur likely wouldn't be happy that I had been living off the 'long-lost' troves of treasure from the vaults of Camelot, also hidden safely away in my cave. I worked part-time as a bartender alongside Ben, whom I had gradually managed to form a real friendship with once I had curbed my drinking habit. That was something else Morgana had insisted upon.

It took me a while to trust Morgana, to move past the damages she had caused. There was a rift between us: anger on my part over her role in Arthur's death and betrayal on her part over the fact that I had, well, killed her. I didn't believe she would ever forgive my offense and I knew I would never forgive hers. The hurt manifested itself in little ways such as bickering over shopping or which show to watch after dinner, little arguments that sometimes got very out of hand.

The fights got worse as Morgana's memories gradually came back to her the more we talked about the past. We reached an agreement after a particularly violent argument one night while we were hiking in the woods that tore open the ground at the force of our powers and only ended when Morgana showed me the scars where Excalibur ran through her which she had been born into her second life with. We agreed not to speak of the deepest wounds again. She agreed to stop calling me Emrys, the name that had caused her so much pain before. We both knew that staying together in discord was better than struggling through life alone and sacrificing this second chance we had been given for reasons yet unknown. To make our peace, I offered her a gift I know she would not forget.

After arranging her present, I found her sitting on the log where I left her. "Come on, it's ready!" I grinned eagerly, but she stood stiffly, angrily.

"I haven't the slightest idea what you could possibly do for me that could even begin to make amends, Merlin."

"Well, fortunately, I have."

I led her up the trail, off the trail, and into a large, grassy field. In the moonlight, the white dragon looked ghostly. It was the first time I had called upon Aithusa since our confrontation after the Battle at Camlann. She had refused to forgive me for murdering Morgana and I never saw her after that. 1000 years later, she was just as massive as Kilgharrah had been when we first met in the caves beneath the citadel. Her scales sparkled brilliantly white, and she showed only hints at the deformities that had crippled her as a juvenile. She looked powerful, magnificent, beautiful, regal, and above all, breathtaking.

At the sight of the dragon, Morgana screamed in disbelief and ran, weeping, to her. I had scarcely seen her so happy. The look on Aithusa's face was just as shocked and even more overjoyed. I knew that she had forgiven me, as I had righted my wrong against her, and I had a feeling Morgana would treat me more kindly after that.

Life together became easier after that. Aithusa remained in the area to be with Morgana, which was difficult considering how large she had become and how unused to civilization she was, having hidden in the Himalayas for the majority of the past millennium. Morgana and I came to terms with our past quarrels in some ways and had learned to work around them in others. With no further causes for turmoil than our messy pasts, gradually our lives settled into place. Morgana continued her education, studying piano and cello at the University of London. I began to act like a member of society again, which felt downright wrong after so many wearying years of reclusive hermitage. We traveled now and then on the dime of Camelot's vast, forgotten fortune, first to New York and then to New Zealand.

Life continued like that for almost two years with all the ups and downs that came with sharing a flat with your ex-arch enemy, a High Priestess who had forgotten how to harness the Old Religion. It felt like being in a holding pattern, waiting for something, although I scarcely noticed this as acutely as Morgana did. I had been waiting for generations. Morgana came along again and changed my whole world. She wasn't the change I had been anticipating those past thousand years, but with her, somehow I didn't feel like I was waiting any more. I did feel, however, that we were on the brink of something different, and we just had to be patient until something shoved us off the edge.

That shove came one night when I returned home from work on a warm August night. Morgana was sitting on the couch with her arms around her knees, watching the news. Her face was as white as a sheet.

"Morgana? What is it? What happened?" My stomach sank, knowing that the news was not to be underestimated. I had been there for every horrible event they had ever broadcast. I dropped my things and dashed to her side.

She shook her head, throat too dry to speak for a moment it seemed. "It's him," she choked out. "He's back. They found him, he's back."

I turned toward the screen. They were running a story about a man who had been found wandering on the side of a rural road dressed in full body armor and carrying a sword. He had been taken to a hospital, claiming to have woken on the shore of a lake with no memory, save his first name.

Arthur.

* * *

**UPDATE 8/4/13**

Due to the fact that the show never referred to Aithusa as a boy or girl and cast interviews on the subject were conflicting, leaving his/her gender up for debate, I made the call in this story to refer to the dragon as a male. However, after a discussion on the matter with Night girl98, I did some deeper digging. Epidose Transcripts on the Merlin Wiki all refer to Aithusa as "she." As these were probably fan-written transcripts, I am unsure how canonically valid this info is, but it was enough to make me change my decision. Aithusa will be a lady dragon from here on out in this story, and any future Merlin fics I may or may not write.

If you have noticed and are confused by the gender switch in this chapter from the previous version, this is why I did it.


	3. Chapter 3

**AN:**

So this is where I can start to have fun. I hope you enjoy! :)

**DISCALIMER: **I OWN NOTHING. If I did, Mergana would've been canon. Excuse me while I cry in a corner.

**6 Hours**

Six hours later, Morgana and I had made the drive out to Avalon. I had to be sure. I had to be absolutely certain that this was Arthur Pendragon, the Once and Future King, returned at last.

"What exactly are you expecting, Merlin? Hypothermia?" Morgana called to me from the shore, hands tucked into the pockets of the oversized 2012 London Olympics sweatshirt I had bought her when we went to the Opening Ceremony. I could barely see her in the moonlight. I stood chest-deep in the icy water - in the exact spot where I had cast off Arthur when he died - freezing off every gratuitous appendage on my body, not that any of them were gratuitous to begin with.

"Well, I don't know, Morgana! I'm assuming that since it's my _destiny_ and since my entire life has been leading up to this night for over a millennium, _maybe_ something will happen. I don't know!" I shouted back, irritated.

"What, like frostbite?" she retorted. I clenched my jaw.

The nagging at the back of my mind that I had mostly quashed in the past two years was telling me to make some snide remark about how I wouldn't be in the lake at all if it weren't for her actions so long ago. I knew better by now, though, and I was in no mood to quarrel with her tonight. Besides, I knew her well enough by now to know that the jabbing was just her way of expressing her worry without actually… expressing it. After a few more frustrating minutes I gave up and waded back to her side.

"Gracious, Merlin, you couldn't have at least taken your shirt off first? You're soaked through!" She pulled off her sweatshirt as we walked toward her red VW Beetle and handed it to me. "Here, put this on so your shirt at least can dry on the way to the hospital. And take your shoes off."

I unbuttoned my gray flannel, that apparently weighed fifteen pounds when wet, and shrugged it off, pulling the sweatshirt on in its place. I was suddenly grateful that I had purchased my size by mistake. I handed the soaked shirt Morgana who stood there in a tank top, jeans, and riding boots, shivering against the mountain air. It was colder at Avalon than it was in London.

"Heaters on, please," I said through chattering teeth when we were in the car. She nodded in agreement and fiddled with the dials until warm air blasted in our faces. Morgana's scent twisted around me, lifted off the sweatshirt by the Beetle's climate control. I inhaled the familiar, relaxing odor and attempted to control the spasms wracking my frozen body, while I removed my socks and shoes.

"You were right, that was a really stupid idea. The lake didn't feel any different than it usually does. I don't know what I was expecting." I shook my head, dejected.

"Well, you had to try. You know why you're still here, you wanted to make sure that this is finally it. I understand that." The set of her mouth as she pulled onto the main road betrayed the true intent of her words. Ever since her revelation about her past two years ago her memories had come back to her almost entirely. Only rarely did I mention something that she didn't recall. The only things she couldn't seem to remember were the finer points of the dark magic that came with her High Priestess-hood.

Now that Morgana remembered who she was, she wanted more than anything to know why she had been sent back. She didn't remember anything about her time in the Next World, so that gave her no clues. I hoped that Arthur's return would answer some of her questions, but I was terrified that seeing the Once and Future King again would tear open the rift between us that we had so successfully and conscientiously sealed. Her happiness meant so infinitely much more than my own, but I didn't know if I could stand to lose her any more, which was saying a great deal when you considered how much loss I had withstood over the years. She had become my anchor to reality in so many ways, reminding me that I wasn't really alone in this Brave New World.

"I get it, you know," I mumbled as we wound through the backroads, headlights illuminating the asphalt as rain began to fall quietly around us. The faintest light of the sun was beginning to show like a halo over the tops of the mountains.

"Get what?"

"How confused you are. I grew up never knowing what my powers were meant for, and then for years after I arrived in Camelot I assumed they were to save Arthur. It wasn't until after he died that I realized I was trying to save him in the wrong lifetime. Even so, I won't be sure until I see Arthur face to face." I reached over and took the hand she wasn't using to drive, stroking the back with my thumb reassuringly. "Morgana, you'll figure this out. I'll help you."

I knew immediately that I'd pulled a trigger. We both did it now and then. It wasn't something we could avoid, but it no longer gave me any satisfaction, and I didn't think she felt any in it, either.

"_Help _me? You mean like when I first found out about my magic and you _poisoned _me? Were you trying to help me then?" she spat, her eyes like green fire, snapping over to meet mine. I could feel enmity radiating off her like the heat from the Beetle's vents. Knowing a fight was inevitable when she got like this, I used my magic to jerk the car over to the side of the road and shut it off before she could make us crash. We jumped out and were shouting in each other's faces in an instant.

"I had no choice then, Morgana!"

"Of course you had a choice! Nobody was holding a sword to your head _making_ you betray me!"

"You know I had to do it, and you know perfectly well why!"

I'd pulled another trigger. "Oh, because you just _had_ to save your little Prince? Look where that got you! If you'd been on my side, _none_ of this would have happened! We would have ruled Albion together! We would've been able to be who we are, and we'd have given that same liberty to all our kind. We could have grown old and died, and maybe we would've stayed dead! Maybe the world wouldn't have forgotten our rule the way they have so easily mythicized your _Once and Future King_." She sneered Arthur's title.

I didn't say anything for a moment, because I knew she was right. It was something I had thought about more than once over the years. If my destiny hadn't been tied so inexplicably to Arthur's maybe I would have joined Morgana. The two of us against the world… We'd have been a force for the ages. There were more than one means to the same end. Arthur's was the right one, though, and I really didn't have a choice when it came down to it. I couldn't have gone with Morgana if I'd wanted to. She knew that, and she could see it in my face in that moment just as clearly as I felt it, because I knew I probably would have wanted to. The anger in her eyes melted away as she watched the regret seep into mine. She looked away, down at the ground.

"Morgana, you know how much I would change if I could. If anyone knows, you do. And you know that I can't change our futures any more than I change the past, so all I want is to understand. You're scared of something, I know you are, because I know _you_. Please let me help you. I know I didn't in the past, but, Morgana, I will live another thousand years trying to make it up to you if that's what it takes. Let me start right now." I took both her hands in one of mine and used the other to raise her chin so that her eyes met mine. "Let me help you."

A tear rolled down her cheek, hitting my hand. It was warmer than the raindrops pelting my skin, and the guilt made it feel like a burn. After the longest moment of silence she spoke. "I am scared, Merlin. I don't want to be alone, not again. I've spent my whole life alone, and most of my last one as well. I didn't think there was another way for me, but I see now that I was wrong." She leaned her face into my hand, and I pulled her into my arms.

"You don't have to worry about that Morgana," I murmured into her hair. "I'll never let you go, never again."

She sobbed into my sweatshirt. "You said it yourself, you don't have a choice."

It struck me then like a blunt sword over my heart. Her real fear was that I was going to abandon her for Arthur. That we were going to repeat our old mistakes. That we were going to lose each other again, and that we didn't even get to choose otherwise. Or worse, that we wouldn't _want_ to choose otherwise.

She was worried that Arthur was going to tear us apart.

"I was wrong. We do have a choice, and while I have a duty to help Arthur that I cannot renege upon, I am choosing you in all the ways I can. Morgana, I swear by the Triple Goddess that you will never be alone again. As long as I walk in this world, you will have me."

Morgana stepped back and wiped her eyes, the tears replaced by raindrops. "I trust you, Merlin."

I cupped her face again. "And I trust you, Morgana."

The words didn't feel like enough, and I knew there was a whole lot more that I was trying to say but didn't understand enough to put to words. In that moment, however, those words did feel right.

She smiled that beautiful, bright smile that made everything in me melt, the one that she saved just for Aithusa and me. "Let's go break your king out of the mental ward then, shall we?" There was still a hint of sadness in her tone, but I knew she had faith in my promise, and sometimes that was all it took for her to pick herself up and move forward: a little faith.

I stepped to the side to open her car door for her. "We shall, My Lady."

* * *

"No, the man who was picked up along the road last night. We're here to claim him." I drummed my fingers on the counter impatiently. The receptionist was being difficult, playing stupid, suffering from hearing loss… One of those or all of the above, I didn't know.

I cast Morgana a disparaging glance and she winked at me. She coughed, muttering what I recognized to be a spell underneath it. Suddenly, everything went haywire. Lights flashed, alarms blared, and the doors to every ward flew open. All the employees leaped every which way, trying to control to chaos. My favorite sorceress slipped her hand into mine and pulled me down a series of hallways that had previously been locked and restricted. Luckilly, the security guards were all busy identifying Morgana's system malfunction.

Five doosr. Six. Seven. Finally, we found a room marked 'John Doe.' We entered.

Arthur Pendragon, Once and Future King of Camelot, in all his glory sat in a wheelchair and a hospital gown, staring out the window with his infamous thinking scowl. Morgana gasped, and he turned to face us.

There was a moment of confusion, then recognition lit up his face and he smiled a smile the width of Albion itself.

"Merlin," he laughed. "Where the _hell_ have you been?"


	4. Chapter 4

**AN:**

I've actually rubbed my wrist raw typing this story, guys. I hope you feel it's worth it as much as I do!

**DISCLAIMER: **Yes, I get it. Peasants aren't worthy of owning things. I'm a peasant. Get over it already…

**2 Hours**

It took 2 hours to smuggle Arthur out of the hospital and back to our flat, but with my powers and Morgana's combined it really hadn't been too difficult. Arthur hadn't wanted to talk before he ate, so I got the king out of the hospital gown and into my clothes before I ran out to get him breakfast while Morgana went back to the hospital in search of his armor and sword.

When I got back to the flat, Arthur was leaning forward with his elbows on his knees and his chin resting on his fists in Morgana's old recliner that didn't recline any more, watching Downton Abbey with an intense look on his face. As I moved past him toward the kitchen, his hand flashed out and grabbed my arm.

"Merlin," he started, his tone serious.

"Yes, Sire?"

"The paintings are moving."

"Yes, Sire, I know."

"They're talking."

"Indeed."

"Glowing, even."

"Yes, it would appear so."

"Is this your doing? Some trick of your sorcery?"

I laughed. "No, no, My Lord. Not sorcery. It's science!"

He nodded, like he always did when he was trying to look like he understood something when he really had no clue what I was on about. "Science. Hm… There are many things about this new world that are strange to me."

I patted him on the shoulder with sarcastic mockery that I knew he wouldn't pick up. "And I shall explain anything you would like to know, once you've eaten."

I strode over to the kitchen and pulled out one of Morgana's nice plates. Arthur followed and tentatively seated himself at our little 4-seater table. "A round table," he noted. "Is that a tradition these days?"

I laughed. "No, that is just a coincidence we picked up for free online."

"On what?"

I shook my head. "Much about the world has changed, Arthur." I could hear the hint of sorrow in my own voice. "It's good to have you back."

"It's good to be back," he smiled genuinely as I placed the plate in front of him. "Ah, finally, decent food. Have you any idea how horrible the meals were in that place you found me? The physicians were downright brainless, as well. Gaius would have been appalled by the herbs they were using. I couldn't pronounce any of their names." He glanced down at the food on his plate. "So, erm… How exactly do I eat this?"

"You pick it up. With your hands." I mimed the motion and earned myself another not-understanding nod. Watching Arthur fumble his way through the modern world was ceaselessly entertaining. He copied my motion.

His eyes widened and he grunted in approval as he chewed. "Oh, Merlin, this is fantastic. What on earth is this? I've never tasted anything like it in my life!"

I smirked and slipped the carry-out bag into the trash while he wasn't looking. "I believe they call it a _cheeseburger_, My Lord."

He smiled broadly. "A cheeseburger, then. We shall dine like this every evening!"

Morgana walked in at that moment. "Do you have any idea how hard it was to fit all this in the trunk of my car?" she muttered in disgust as she tossed a duffle bag on the floor of the main room. It landed with a heavy thud. "It's all there: the armor, that blasted sword, everything." She leaned on the counter next to me, looking so exhausted. I put my hand over hers.

"It's been a long night. Why don't you go to bed?"

She nodded. "Okay. Don't hesitate to wake me if you need to. You get some sleep soon, as well, alright?"

"I promise." We smiled softly at each other for a moment before she turned and went to her bedroom, shutting the door behind her.

When I looked back at Arthur he had his eyebrows raised and was smirking.

"Oh, shut up," I snapped.

He raised his hands defensively. "I didn't say anything."

"It's not like that," I insisted.

"I never said it was."

I shook my head and sank into the chair at the table across from the king's. "She's changed, Arthur, she really has. She's still Morgana, but she's _good_, good-hearted. She may still be bitter, but she isn't so filled with hate anymore."

He thought for a minute, tapping the table. "Merlin, I have no plans to make amends with her."

"Arthur, _please_!"

"I don't intent to quarrel with her, either. Her crimes are great, but I'm willing to put them aside in many ways if she is as well."

I shook my head. "Just give her a chance. She'll change your mind if you'd just let her."

He watched me, his gaze level. "That's what I'm worried about."

I didn't respond, and we sat in silence while Arthur finished eating. My mind hadn't fully wrapped itself around the concept that he was there, sitting with me over a meal like nothing had changed. It was like that when I'd found Morgana, too. It took several weeks for it to fully sink in, that she was real in every sense of the word and that she was there with me again. I expected Arthur's presence would hit me like a sack of flour one day when I came home from work, the way it had with my favorite sorceress.

When Arthur finished, I cleaned up his plate while he leaned back in his chair and sighed contentedly.

"Alright," I started. "You've eaten. Are you ready to talk now?"

He frowned. "The last thing I remember after… well, my death, is a woman's voice saying the path to my destiny has only just begun. After that, I woke up on the shore of the Lake Avalon and I couldn't remember anything, not even the voice. It all came back when I saw you and Morgana though, all of it." He paused for a moment, mulling over something. "Really, between… dying and when I woke up at the lake… It was like closing my eyes to sleep: I have absolutely no idea how long I was out. Merlin, how long as it been?"

I clenched my jaw. "A thousand years," I breathed.

His eyes widened. "A thousand… And you've been here all this time?"

I nodded, solemn.

"Oh, Merlin, what I would give to her hear of the things you've seen." He laughed, but I looked down, the weight of the ages washing over me. His smile vanished and he leaned forward. "What exactly _have_ you seen?"

My face sank into my hands. "Destruction. Death. The cruelty of man. The world has become a dark place since the fall of Camelot, Arthur." I looked up to measure his reaction.

"The fall. So Camelot is no more." His eyes got a distant look to them for a few seconds. When he came back, they were filled with concern. "Guinevere. Did she…"

"The peace you left us with lasted throughout her reign, but not much longer."

His gaze drifted out the window, grief evident on his face, the grief of a man who had lost everything while he wasn't looking. We sat like that for a long while, lost in our memories of the old days, our regrets and remorse, the dreams and plans we had lost that day on the battlefield at Camlann. I had suffered the misery of watching everyone I had ever loved die, and Arthur hadn't had the pleasure.

Then I remembered that I hadn't lost everyone entirely. I had Morgana again, and now I had Arthur as well. Somehow, that seemed like enough to make all of it bearable.

"We should go to bed. We can deal with this whole thing tomorrow," I broke the silence after what could have been two hours or five minutes. Like closing our eyes to sleep. I glanced out the window at the low-hanging sun. "Or, today, I suppose."

Arthur stood and stretched. "So I'll be taking this room then," he stated matter-of-factly, nodding at the room opposite Morgana's.

"That's my room!" I retorted indignantly.

He waved his hand toward the living room furniture. "Well, your…"

"Sofa," I gave him the word he was looking for.

"Yes, your sofa looks very comfortable. I'm sure you'll sleep just fine out here."

He left for my room without another word. I gave up and retrieved a pillow and blanket from the linen cabinet and set up my bed on the sofa. I was laying there, staring at the ceiling, when I heard Arthur shout my name from the other room.

"Merlin! How do you put out this infernal candle?"

I chuckled to myself and got off the couch. If I was being honest, I'd missed being bossed around by this pushy, thick-headed child. I found Arthur standing in the middle of my room with his neck craned. "It's on the bloody _ceiling_." He pointed at it when I walked in.

"Yes, Sire, it's called a _ceiling_ lamp."

"Well, how do you put it out?" he demanded.

"Like this." Watching the look of childish wonder mingled with fear on his face as I demonstrated the function of a light switch almost made up for the endless years of purgatory.

"Ah. More of your sorcery?"

"No, Sire."

"Scientific advancement, then?"

"Yes, Sire."

"I see." I turned to leave, but he stopped me. "Well, aren't you going to help me get dressed?"

I laughed as we fell so easily into our old patterns. "Wouldn't miss it for the world."

When Arthur was finally dressed in my night clothes and tucked into bed, I backed out of the room.

"Anything else?" I asked, eager to get some sleep.

"No, I think that will be all." There was a pause. "Thank you, Merlin."

I felt as if someone had run me through with a sword. _Thank you_. There wasn't a night I lay in bed and didn't hear him saying those words as he slipped away from me.

"You're welcome, My Lord," I managed to choke out as I shut the door.

"Are you alright?" the sweetest voice spoke from my side. I gasped and turned to see Morgana standing in her delicate dressing robe at my side. With her dark hair cast around her and her pale skin glowing in the think streak of light finding its way through the drawn curtains, she looked more like the ghost I had always feared she was than the girl who had saved me in more ways than I could count.

"I thought you were asleep," I muttered quietly, careful not to disturb the king.

"I couldn't. And I heard you up, so…"

"Um, yeah, I was just going to bed." I gestured at place on the couch.

"What? He's making you sleep there?" She shook her head. "Come on, you can sleep my bed tonight."

I stepped forward, but then something in me balked. "No, I can't do that, Morgana. Don't worry about it."

"No, really, Merlin, I insist. Please." She sounded like she was just trying to do something nice for me, but I could read her eyes. Ethereal green. She was scared. She didn't want to be alone, not even in her room, not for one night.

So I let her lead me to her bed. One side of the black, silk sheets were tossed aside, but the other was untouched. I got in on the undisturbed side, thankful for the darkness of her black and silver décor that made the room feel like night. I felt the bed shift as Morgana crawled in next to me.

It was strange, being close to her like this, but it felt more comfortable that it had with anyone else as long as I could remember, which was a long way indeed. After a few minutes, she slid over so that our arms were touching.

"I'm just a little cold," she muttered as an excuse, but I knew what she really wanted to say. She needed to know I was there as much as I needed the same from her. Without thinking about it, I pulled her into my arms.

"Better?"

Morgana nodded against my chest. "Much," she answered, and I could hear a smile in her voice.

I stroked her beautiful raven's locks and drifted to sleep in the blissful wave of her heavenly scent.

I couldn't be sure if I was dreaming, but as I reached the edge of my consciousness I heard my favorite voice whisper to me, "Never let me go, Merlin."


	5. Chapter 5

**AN:**

So there was a lot of Arthur in the last chapter, which I enjoyed writing, but I miss Mergana so that will be what I focus on in this chapter! Also, I feel like flexing my classical music fascination. I encourage you all to listen to the piece I mention in this chapter! And I want to flesh out Aithusa a bit. Basically, this is a chapter of self-gratification, the stuff that makes me happy to write.

That being said, I should probably warn you in plain English: FLUFF CHAPTER.

**DISCLAIMER: **Getting really tired of this… I don't own stuff, like any of this stuff, really. Happy now?

**1 Week**

By the end of the first week back with Arthur, I realized just how set in my ways I had become during the previous millennium. Working for the king again was wearing on my nerves more than I had anticipated it would. Worse yet, he and Morgana had begun to argue, and when they weren't arguing, he was teasing me about my bond with the formerly-evil sorceress. It entertained him to no end that I had been sleeping in her room every night since his return. I needed a break, so I had Morgana drive me out to see Aithusa before she had to be at school.

I had started working with the dragon about a year after we had made our peace. Aithusa had spent her entire life mute, and at first, I assumed that this was due to her lack of interaction with humans growing up. As time went on, however, and I started to do some digging in the ancient manuscripts I had collected over the ages, I began to suspect that, just as with the case of the hatching of dragons, the process of learning to speak had to involve a Dragonlord.

We would sit on rural plains for hours on end. I would try everything I could think of, from translating books into the Dragon Tongue and reading them to her, to frustratedly shouting spells into the sky in hopes that one of them would allow Aithusa to speak. None of it ever worked. I suspected it would be all too easy, had I practiced my dragon magic even once since the Battle at Camlann. As it was, I desperately wished for the guidance of Kilgharrah or my father. Unfortunately, in all my power, I could not recall the dead.

I collapsed on the ground where she was curled up and leaned against her foreleg as she stretched her maw into a massive yawn. We had been working endlessly all morning, shuffling through the books I had managed to salvage from an age when dragons had widely populated the world and the Dragonlords were a powerful order.

"I have plans to search the Crystal Cave for information soon, when things settle down," I tried to reassure her.

She blinked slowly. _Now that Arthur has returned, there is no guarantee that things will ever slow down_, she seemed to be saying.

"I _will_ help you, Aithusa, I swore I would."

She closed her eyes and turned her head away. I knew she was getting weary of this, and I knew she would be content to continue life as she had always lived it, but I could feel the hope burning inside her, that maybe one day she would hear her own voice. Oh, the things she must be able to tell of, the words of advice she might have to share with me. Dragons were unparalleled for their wisdom, and I would need her guidance in the complicated times ahead. I needed her voice just as desperately as she wanted it. She knew that.

We lay like that in the sun for a while, simply enjoying the sense of kinship between us. Eventually, I checked my watch.

"Morgana's just gotten off school. I need to head back to the city."

Aithusa nodded and allowed me to climb onto her back. Careful to fly in the sun to shield her from the view of any on the ground, she flew me to the pick-up point in minutes. Morgana was already waiting, leaning on the hood of her mud-covered Beetle with a friendly scowl on her face.

"You really need to learn to drive, Merlin," she called, striding over as soon as we landed.

"Why? I'm happy using the Tube." I released Aithusa's neck spike and climbed down her side.

"Yes, but the Tube doesn't take you to Aithusa." She kissed the dragon's snout and stretched up to scratch the place between her eyes that she loved the best, the sorceress rocking up onto her tip-toes to do so. "Not that I'm not happy for the chance to see you, my Dear," Morgana whispered, reassuringly, to her friend. "But you don't know what it's like, having to play his chauffer."

Aithusa gave her a look that screamed, _Trust me, I do_.

Morgana laughed. "Alright, maybe you do." She rested her forehead against the dragon's snout. "I'll come visit you tomorrow, I promise." The dragon blinked contentedly.

Aithusa took off as we pulled away onto the backroads. When she was out of sight behind the glare of the sun, I turned to Morgana.

"So what's the plan for the rest of the night? I was thinking about taking Arthur to Buckingham Palace. Maybe it'll help him realize he isn't royalty anymore." I turned to look at Morgana, and realized she was looking at me like my head had fallen off my shoulders. "What? Bad idea? I was just thinking, you know, it might get him off my back, but…"

"Merlin!" she shouted, cutting me off. "Have you honestly forgotten what tonight is?"

"Um… Tuesday?"

She slapped my arm. It hurt. "No! It's my concert!"

Realization struck me like her hand had just struck my arm. Guilt consumed me in an instant. How had I forgotten? She was soloing on the piano with a local symphony. It was the only thing she had talked about all month beside Arthur's return. She had been practicing night and day, and she didn't come to bed until 2 in the morning last night. "Oh…"

"You said you would come." She looked away dejectedly out the windshield. The look on her face made my whole frame ache to ease her suffering.

"I know I did! I bought my ticket two months ago, middle of the third row, right where you can see me."

She glanced at me. "Will you be okay leaving Arthur home alone?"

"I'll leave food out and lay out a newspaper on the floor since I won't be there to let him out." She laughed like she couldn't help it, and I knew I was forgiven. "What piece are you playing again?" I knew this would get her talking. She always did intensive research on any piece she was working on to give emotional substance to her playing, and I loved that about her.

"Rachmaninoff's Piano Concerto No. 2 In c minor, remember?" She rattled off the name of the work as fluidly as she did her own. "Oh, there's this one run in the second movement that's been driving me mad, I don't know how that man came up with something so…" Just like that, she was off and running like I knew she would be. By the time we were back at our flat she was still talking about Sergei Rachmaninoff's distaste for performing his most famous piece, Prelude in c# minor.

"What's your call time?" I finally interrupted her while we walked to the front door.

"I have to be onstage ready to rehearse at 5:30, and the concert starts at 8. I'll be leaving in two hours, so you can either come with me in the car or show up by Tube in time for the concert."

I smiled at her as I fiddled with my keys. "Well, I'm coming with you of course. What's a star musician like you to do without her entourage?"

She grinned. "I haven't the slightest idea. I assume I'd be lost without you."

"Lucky for you, you'll never have to know."

The warmth in her eyes in that moment was so overwhelming, I didn't want to move an inch from where I was standing.

So, obviously, that was the moment that Arthur yanked the door open.

"Where have you lovebirds _been_? I'm absolutely starving!" The tandem look of murder Morgana and I gave him made him pause. "Sorry. I'll, er, be in the kitchen." He gave me a meaningful, 'make me a sandwich' glare, and walked away.

A few minutes later, Morgana went to her room to practice while I made Arthur a sandwich. I told him of our plans as we ate. I offered to take him to Buckingham the next day, but the king decided that he wanted to go that night, and he wanted to go alone.

"I know you don't believe it, Merlin, but I do think, and sometimes I need to be able to think about things without you around. Besides, I'm not _completely_ incompetent, and you did show me how to use a cab the other day. You go make sure Morgana's night is special." I wasn't sure what he meant by that, but I didn't waste time thinking about it.

One of Morgana's classmates (one of the girls she had been with that fateful night in the pub) showed up an hour before we needed to leave in order to help my favorite sorceress get ready. I let her in, introduced Arthur to her as Morgan's cousin, and led her to the bedroom that was quickly becoming half mine.

"I'll never understand why girls feel the need to spend half the afternoon getting ready for the evening," I mused, leaning against the doorframe to the bathroom. Morgana was seated in front of the mirror attending to her makeup while Clara bent over her, doing goodness knows what to her hair with a hundred different tools and products.

"It's Morgan's big night, Merlin. If she is ever going to look her best, it's now."

"Well, she's already stunning as it is. Do too much more to her, and no one will pay attention to her playing. Did you think of that?"

Morgana immediately picked up some sort of cream and started covering her cheeks with it. I hoped she was trying to hide a blush, but in the next moment I was puzzled, wondering why I found that a desirable thing.

Clara just shook her head. "Maybe you should try it, Merlin. Go put on your suit and I'll help you get fixed up."

"My suit?" It occurred to me then that I hadn't even considered my attire for the evening. I went to my room and pulled out the dinner jacket Morgana had bought me for just such occasions.

Before long, I was standing by the front door waiting for Morgana and her friend. Arthur leaned against the kitchen counter, smirking.

"I think you looked better in the ceremonial servant's robes, Merlin, I really do,' he chided. I rolled my eyes as the girls entered.

Everything within me crumbled when I saw Morgana. Her elegant, ebony curls were pulled half back, framing her face but allowing the hair to drape free in its untouched, breathtaking radiance. Her makeup was minimal, but dramatic, highlighting her features and giving her the air of being distant, unattainable, above and out of reach. She was wearing an emerald gown with intricate silver detailing running from the hem of her skirt to her right hip where it met a delicate chain draped in a V at her waist. The sleeves were made from a transparent material and gathered just above the elbow, from where they plummeted nearly to the floor. The neckline was off the shoulder, so low that the sleeves barely looked connected to the rest of the dress, but the outfit was held up by a braided silver chain that wrapped around Morgana's neck and hung down her back in the three individual strands. Everything about it was like a modern take on the wardrobe Uther had provided for her as his ward. All I could see was the woman I had known when I first arrived in Camelot, the beautiful, brilliant, remarkable Morgana that had the world at her fingertips and filled it with light and love.

My voice caught as I tried to speak. "You look…" I tried to tell her everything I couldn't figure out how to say, but there weren't words enough.

She just smiled warmly, that smile that she saved just for me and Aithusa. "As do you." I met her eyes, her ethereally green eyes, and I knew that words would never be enough, and that, somehow, we didn't need them. We both knew what we were trying to say.

Clara stepped forward, walking past me toward the door and eyeing me as she did. "Yes, he does, doesn't he? You clean up well, Emrys. You didn't even need my help." There was a contemplative edge to her voice. Morgana's gaze flashed from me to her, and back. There was a brief moment that I believed I saw something akin to hatred in her green depths, but it was gone before I could be sure what it was. When she looked back at me, there was just the blissful happiness that had been there when she walked out.

"Shall we be off then?" I offered Morgana my arm, which she took without a moment's pause. Clara, who was meeting us at the concert hall right before the concert started, left us on the street after another glance at me and headed up the road to get ready in her own flat. I helped Morgana into the car and made sure all her affects were in order before we left, making our way to the across the city.

* * *

Three hours later, I was in my seat, displaying every nervous tick in the book and staring down the red curtain over the stage like it might blink before I did if I strained hard enough. Clara sat at my left, rolling her eyes at me and whispering to the rest of Morgana's friends about the upholstery on the seats or something along those lines. I knew I was just being an anxious stage mother, but I was convinced I was more stressed out about this concert than Morgana was. I had left her in the green room after she had finished warming up with the symphony, allowing her to get her head in gear.

After what seemed like a millennium (and if anyone alive knew what that felt like, it was me) the curtain finally opened. The orchestra was already seated, and after a word from the president of the organization, the conductor walked out with my favorite sorceress on his heels. The stage lights struck her hair like a halo, and once more my vital organs turned to a puddle of indiscernible mush. She sat at the grand piano that was almost as beautiful as she was, and music swelled through the hall.

I had heard Morgana play that piece so many times I felt I may never forget it no matter how much longer I lived, but it was different that time. As I sat there for the half-hour that it took to play through Rachmaninoff's 2nd Piano Concerto, I saw, felt, and heard a side to this woman that I had never touched before. I couldn't tell if the rest of the audience saw it as clearly as I did, but that night I saw her crack open her chest, rip out her heart, cut down to its deepest corners, and pour everything within onto that piano and all over the stage. I was washed in the presence of _her_, raw and beautiful, exposed in a way that captivated me and immobilized me in my awe. She wasn't playing the piano, she wasn't performing in any way, and the notes coming from her fingertips weren't just notes, not to her and not to me. She was throwing herself into the moment wholeheartedly, and the music was no more than the medium of her expression. She wasn't playing Rachmaninoff.

She was playing her soul.

When it was over – the moment that I never wanted to end – I left my seat and rushed from the hall. The audience was still settling down from the standing ovation that they had given Morgana, preparing for the rest of the concert, but I ignored them, pushing my way up toward the auditorium doors. I wound through the halls, crashing through doors until I found the one I was looking for.

She was sitting in the mirror of the green room, smiling like the sunrise and dabbing at her eyes as tears of joy threatened her in her moment alone. I paused in the threshold, just watching her, not wanting to disturb her. She was still so raw, safe with just herself. I could feel her magic in the air like a tangible force, painted brilliant colors with her emotions behind my eyes so I could read them like a map of her mind. Then her eyes found mine in the mirror, like they had that first new night, and the spectrum of her around me lit up like fireworks.

She was out of her chair in an instant and she threw her arms around me, sobbing into my jacket. I ran my hand down her back, knotting my fingers in her hair.

"Merlin…" She choked on her words.

"I know," I mumbled into her curls. I did know. I couldn't be sure what she herself had experienced on that stage, but I could see it, taste it in the air around us. I wanted so desperately for her to feel me the way I felt her in that moment. I wanted her to see what I couldn't say, the thing that had been on the tip of my tongue, the thing that I had been dancing around for months but hadn't had the words for. I had the words now, the words I could think and feel, but still didn't know how to say. The words that meant everything to me, and yet absolutely nothing without her:

_I love you, Morgana_.


End file.
